With Everything I Am (The Three #2)(53)

He had her key.

Saint had given it to him the day he’d arrived. It was on the ring with his truck keys, his SUV being something else Saint had provided for him.

He used the key to let them in while she glared at his keyring like she was willing it to combust in his fingers.

When they entered, her alarm started beeping. She turned to it and punched in the code then stomped into the house.

Callum took off his coat while slowly Christmas lights, inside and out, started twinkling from everywhere.

Callum glanced around.

Ryon wasn’t wrong. Sonia seriously had a thing about Christmas.

He listened to her tramping around upstairs as he went to her clean, pristine kitchen and opened the fridge, praying she had beer.

She didn’t.

She didn’t even have a bottle of chilled white wine.

He was searching the cupboards for spirits when she stormed in, having divested herself of her vest and scarf, and her eyes narrowed on her mail neatly piled on the counter.

“I see someone’s been taking care of my house,” she announced ungraciously and walked to the mail, snatching it from the counter. Not looking at him, she shuffled through it while she demanded to know, “Did you arrange that?”

“Yes,” he replied, turning back to open another cabinet in which he saw, thankfully, she had a number of bottles of liquor and one of them, to his great fortune, contained a very good whisky.

“I shudder to think of the state of my store considering I disappeared into thin air during Christmas season.” She aimed a glare in his direction as he discovered where she kept her glasses. “My girls are probably freaked!”

“Only if they have the uncanny ability of clairvoyance,” Callum replied calmly. “Regan arranged for one of our people, a woman who has a goodly amount of retail experience considering her mate owns Harrinton’s department stores, to tell them you had an urgent situation that called you away but arranged for her to manage the store in your absence.”

This knowledge gave her a start, as it would considering there was a Harrinton’s in every exclusive mall in the country. They were highly lucrative ventures and were known as the elite shopping experience.

He ignored her reaction and the fact that she didn’t express her gratitude as she had to Ryon, three times when he’d displayed his thoughtfulness, and turned to pour his whisky.

She threw her mail on the counter and stomped from the room.

He listened to her crashing around upstairs as he turned his h*ps to the counter, sipped his whisky and practiced controlled breathing.

This didn’t help.

Some time later, he put his empty glass on the counter, switched off the light and followed her up the stairs.

He found her in her bedroom wearing a silvery-gray knit nightgown with a thin edge of white lace at the bodice and hem. The nightgown hugged her curves and came down to her knees. Her face was cleaned of makeup and she was throwing back the covers on the bed.

“Sonia, it’s time for your injection,” he told her.

“Yes, it was. That’s why I gave it to myself,” she retorted, climbing on the bed and seating herself with her shoulders against the headboard.

At this news Callum’s body went still as his anger escalated exponentially.

“I’m sorry?” he asked quietly.

She nabbed a tube from her nightstand. Not looking at him, she squirted lotion into her hand, bent forward and started to massage it into her foot.

“I gave it to myself,” she repeated.

The only thing from the cabin she packed was her medication. She didn’t need anything else, his people would see to the dirty laundry and food. And, as they’d be returning, hopefully soon, it would be good that she had clothes and toiletries there. In fact, he’d order her to stock what she needed so they could return there at his whim.

He came into the room and stopped at the foot of her bed.

“I thought I explained I’d be giving you your injections.”

She shifted her attention to her other foot but not to him. “You did.”

“Sonia, look at me,” he demanded.

She slammed the tube of lotion down on her nightstand and then turned to face him. Or, more accurately, glare at him.

“I’ll not tolerate another defiance like that again,” he stated.

Her head tilted to the side. “You won’t? Well then…” she leaned forward and snapped, “good. Because you won’t be defied because you won’t be around.”

He felt his muscles grow taut as his control on his temper started slipping.

“Perhaps you’d like to explain that,” he invited in a way that said, very clearly, she wouldn’t.

Recklessly, she did it anyway.

“After today, I’ve decided I don’t want to be your queen. After today, I’ve decided I don’t want anything to do with you. Not,” she stated boldly, “your people, who all seem very nice, except that crazy woman who was, sadly, though you didn’t seem to notice it, not well at all. But you. I don’t want anything to do with you.”

“Little one,” he advised softly as he moved to the side of the bed, “I’d stop talking now.”

“You would? Well, of course you would, since all day you’ve been saying a lot but not much of it good. However, since I haven’t been allowed to talk nearly all day, I’ve got a lot of words left in my stockpile.”